Give a Name, Walk Away
by Swifteh
Summary: Ash and Drew reconcile their dysfunctional familial backgrounds as they try to uncover the mysteries behind their respective fathers. PokeShipping and ContestShipping. Ch 2 posted.
1. Rapid Eye Movement

**Foreward:** The concept of family is an interesting element in Pokemon. Some characters are chosen not to have an entire family written out in their backgrounds (Drew, Misty, Ash). In contrast, other characters are given a fully fleshed-out familial background (Brock, May, Max). It's very likely that absence of a full family have been implemented by the writers for the sake of convenience. Perhaps if one were to eliminate the notion that the writers have been omitting facts for the sake of convenience, the lack of specifics regarding Ash's father, Drew's parents, or Misty's parents would become slightly more alarming. "Give a Name, Walk Away" explores this visible void, attributing this lack of specifics to familial dysfunction. The title itself is taken from the lyrics of the Everclear song, "Father of Mine."

**Give a Name, Walk Away**

**Chapter One**  
_Rapid Eye Movement_

Consciousness slowly came to her. The feel of the bed sheets on her skin, the irritation of her scalp by her crunched short hair against her pillow, and the position of her arms splayed to the left of her body; one-by-one, the awareness of her surroundings became greater and greater as she gradually emerged out of REM. The moment her will was returned to her, she immediately tried to revoke it by her own same volition. She kept her eyes closed, hopeful she would return back to sleep.

Her splayed arms were within range of the person she was sharing the bed with. She moved her body forward whilst closing her eyes in order to secure her arms around him. However, when her hands reached the other side of the bed, she stopped and opened her eyes.

She realized he wasn't there.

Misty turned her head against her pillow, looking at the alarm clock on top of the small drawer next to one of the corners of her king sized bed. It was 3:48 AM. She looked forward and lifted her head to see if the hallway lights were on or any other indicators that he was still inside the house. Upon observing no immediate evidence that her boyfriend was anyway near, Misty threw the bed sheets off her body. She swung her legs around, secured her feet on the ground, and lifted herself up in a sitting position.

"Ash?" she called out into the hallway while scratching an itch on her bare sternum.

There was no response. Why wouldn't he be in the house?

"Ash?" she tried again.

Again, no response.

Misty slowly lifted herself up into an upright position, her body impeded by bed time fatigue. She stumbled towards the light switch in the bedroom with the little consciousness she had and turned it on. She then walked into the hallway, down until she got to the living room, disappointed to find no one upon hitting the light switch.

Pangs of anxiety. Reality had deviated itself from the usual. It was inexplicable. Why wouldn't he be in the house at this hour? Did he go out for a walk?

Misty returned to her bedroom. After entering, she had noticed one of the dressers had all its drawers half open with various articles of clothing dangling out. With further investigation, Misty would see that some of Ash's clothes were gone.

Misty returned to sit down on her bed. She squeezed her hands between her bare thighs and stared down onto the ground, head in a cocked position. The numerous variables that had been defined in her mind helped narrow down the reasons. Still, it was inexplicable. Why would Ash suddenly leave the house early in the morning?

Misty was still in nothing but her bra and panties; though she was getting cold just sitting there on her bed doing nothing, she had zoned out whilst trying to think where Ash had gone.

-

Consciousness came abruptly to her. Her fragile concentration in hibernation had been interrupted by the violent sounds of her cellular telephone. Wanting to stop the undesirable noise, the girl reached over the side of the bed and felt for the source of the culprit sound, knocking several objects down, including her alarm clock and a plastic water glass. The girl removed several strands of shampoo-tasting brown hair out of her mouth and brought the telephone to her face.

"Hello…" May meekly whispered into the receiver. She paused to listen.

After several moments, May responded into her cell phone:

"No, I haven't seen him since we came back from Goldenrod."

Another pause.

"No, he hasn't called."

"No, I'm sure you're just overreacting. I'm sure Ash got a call from his agent or the Pokemon Lea…"

"Misty, I'm sure Ash is… No, no, just, just, please calm down… You need to get some sleep, Misty. Please… Okay… Okay… Bye."

May pressed the "End" button on her cell phone. She laid it down back to its original position. Worried that she might have awakened Drew, she turned around, wanting to check if he was still asleep or not.

To May's dismay, Drew was not in bed. May, connecting the current parallel to Misty's situation, removed the bed sheets off of her and put on her bathrobe. She opened the door out of her bedroom to the living room to be temporarily and thankfully blinded by the thinly yellow-tinted light emitting from the kitchen's light fixtures. The apartment smelling of bacon and scrambled eggs encouraged her even more.

"Drew?" she called out.

"I'm right here in the kitchen."

May walked into the small kitchenette of hers to find Drew making an extremely early breakfast for himself. Drew, while mixing a batter of uncooked pancakes, looked behind him to find his girlfriend, looking disheveled and groggy having just gotten out of bed. He placed the batter down on the counter and walked towards her to give her a light embrace and a quick peck on the forehead.

"You're up awfully early," he pointed out.

May gave a biting glance at Drew, wanting to point out the hypocrisy in his statement. She decided to resist the allure as of that moment.

"Breakfast for one and not two, Drew?"

"Guilty as charged," Drew admitted as he continued stirring his batter for one, "Was I that noisy?"

May cut right to the chase.

"Why are you up so early, Drew?"

"I... Couldn't sleep."

"Drew? How come?"

"No reason in particular," he answered while staring straight into his scrambled eggs.

Again, Drew was being enigmatic. He had been like this for five days May observed.

"Drew, we've been over this before," May exasperated, "It just frustrates me that…"

"May, we're not bringing this up again. Just… Not now."

"Andrew! You said that two days ago! How many times are we going to do this?"

Drew exhaled in frustration. May ran her fingers through her crinkled brown hair while violently scratching her scalp. Drew continued to cook his early breakfast while May just stood there with her arms crossed. After a minute or so, May broke the ambient sound of the sizzling eggs and bacon with her spoken thoughts.

"This is about your father, isn't it?"

Drew pretended that he didn't hear that and tasted his finished scrambled eggs.

May stared at Drew, still in her position of observation with her folded arms across her chest. She closed her eyes and sighed, perhaps contemplating a bit more. It wasn't until Drew began to reduce the heat on the kitchen stove when May approached her boyfriend and gave a soft cold kiss on his cheek.

"I'm going back to sleep, Andrew," she said softly, "Enjoy your breakfast."

Drew stared after May as she walked down the hallway to the bedroom. She would stop a few paces before the bedroom corridor to say something aside from the previous subject.

"You're probably wondering why I woke up this early," she projected down the hallway, "Misty called. For some odd reason, Ash left during the middle of the night."

With that, Drew heard the squeak and the click of the bedroom door closing as he finished gathering his cooked breakfast on a casual glass plate. Before eating, Drew opted to head to the pantry first and pulled out a bottle of wine. He poured the contents into a simple water glass, ignoring the fancy stemware May had stored just above the stove. Drew ate his breakfast while swigging heavy amounts of the crimson red drink; he was only a quarter done with his plate before he poured himself another serving.

**End of Chapter One**


	2. Telecommunication

**Chapter 2  
**_Telecommunication_

The sisters always began their day with a hot cup of tea along with their breakfast. The three eldest preferred theirs with milk and sugar while the youngest had always preferred to hold back on the additives. Her boyfriend, however, wouldn't even touch the tea and would instead opt for the carton of milk that the sisters used to flavor their drinks. Usually, the carton would be reduced by half each day; only half a quarter had been used this morning.

Misty rested her head on her arms placed on the breakfast table, staring at the empty seat next to her. The carton of milk and an empty glass was placed in front of it, almost waiting for the seat's owner to arrive. Misty hoped that upon each passing minute he would enter through the hallway corridor and claim the two items along with his breakfast. She briefly lifted her head up to check the clock, assessing just how much time he had to catch his meal. It was 9:54 AM.

Misty returned her head back to its original position and sighed. Her cup of tea sitting next to her arms had gotten cold, the spoon used to stir it had tipped over and had fallen out. The three sisters peered over their respective fashion magazine, automotive periodical, and entertainment newspaper and gave a worried look at their baby sister.

"Misty," said the eldest, "I'm really really sure he's going to call sometime today. It's going to be no use waiting on him all day."

"Daisy's right, little sister," said the youngest of the three while chewing on her bagel, "You shouldn't freak out this soon."

Misty turned her head towards Lily and Daisy while keeping it cradled in her arms. She gave out another exasperated sigh and closed her eyes, indicating that she was convinced that they were wrong and that he would come in any minute now.

The sister yet to say anything had placed herself in the once empty seat next to her little sister. She brought her hands to Misty's nappy morning hair and undid her ponytail.

"I'm sure he's all right, Misty," Violet said while running her fingers through Misty's shoulder length hair, "All this extra worry for him is making us worried for you."

Violet's free hand softly petted Misty's head while her other hand was straightening out Misty's untended hair. Misty would suddenly interrupt Violet by getting up in her seat and walking out of the kitchen. Her scrunchy was still wrapped around Violet's wrist.

The sisters looked at each other with concerned glances. One by one, they reluctantly returned to their breakfasts, reminding themselves of the headstrong, adamant, and stubborn nature of their baby sister.

-

May was thankful for the coordinating offseason. Professional coordinating often required her and Drew to usually rise out of bed by six thirty in the morning and also required them to stay away from the comforts of their Saffron apartment as the two were usually out on the road, traveling to catch the next contest their respective agents had signed them up for. Although May loved her occupation as a coordinator, she didn't appreciate the excess stress that existed in the professional circles with its rigid scheduling; May couldn't remember the last time when she actually walked instead of ran to a contest hall or to a gate in an airport terminal or train station. May's career in the regular season certainly would not have sustained May and Drew's recent midnight watching of a romantic comedy, going to bed at 3:00 AM, and May's consequent waking up at 9:45 AM.

It wasn't even a good romantic comedy May thought as she drowsily unclasped her bra. May definitely felt the need for more sleep but she reminded herself that it wasn't a good idea to develop a bad habit of sleeping beyond seven hours, with or without being called by the girlfriend of your best friend in the middle of the night or having your boyfriend suddenly become an insomniac. A nice warm shower would give her the wake up call needed to get her out of her drowsy spell.

May gripped the bathroom towel bar for support as she kicked off her panties dangling on her left ankle. Finally disrobed, she walked into the bathtub, the shower head already spraying soothing warm water on her body upon entrance.

May began lathering her now-drenched brown hair with shampoo while she hummed a random tune. She closed her eyes and basked in the warmth. The relaxing temperate water told her she was going stay in the shower for a quite a while.

-

"Misty? You there?"

Brock would usually be quite certain whether or not he was speaking to Misty whenever he called the Cerulean Gym; he always called using a video phone. Brock's asking if Misty was on the other end would be attributed to the fact that Misty had placed the incoming phone call to "Voice Only."

"Yeah, Brock, I'm here," confirmed Misty.

Misty looked like a mess though Brock would know none of it. She was dressed with frazzled flowing short red hair, bags underneath her eyelids, an unwashed face, and an ugly pink bathrobe. Even though Brock was one of her closest confidants who, for better or worse, normally never minded what Misty looked like over the phone, today she simply didn't want to let him see her face; not with her being so worried about Ash.

"I'm so sorry I called so late," Brock apologized, "I got your message on my answering machine just now." The message had been sent five o'clock in the morning and had also been delivered without any video footage of Misty.

"Has Ash called you this morning, Brock?" Misty hopefully asked.

"Nope, no phone call," replied the other end, "Nothing on my answering machine, nothing on my cell phone, not even voicemail."

With that, Misty threw a forceful sigh into the receiver.

"Oh, Brock," she whined, "Where can he be?"

Misty grew more anxious, evident by her voice becoming more urgent with each spoken word. She felt like she was running out of options, running out of rational leads to attach to Ash's sudden disappearance. Brock himself evidently wished knowing where Ash was. Not for the sake of Misty's sanity, but also for the sake of his own genuine concern for his buddy Ash.

"I," Brock stammered, "I have no idea, Misty."

Misty was at least thankful that Brock had called her. She was due for a nervous breakdown, but simply hearing his voice would at least postpone that.

"Did something happen between you two yesterday night?" asked Brock.

"I," Misty stuttered, "I don't think so."

"Nothing?" Brock wanted to verify, "Like, nothing this past week?"

"It was your usual boring summer week," Misty noted, "It's the offseason, Brock. Daisy doesn't have any gym appointments, the Indigo Plateau relieved me of my seasonal obligations two weeks ago, and it's been a month since Ash got back from the National Pro League Championships."

"A whole lot of nothing you guys have been doing I guess," Brock observed.

Misty sighed, "Well, Ash had sorta kept himself busy since the beginning of this week. He had been on the phone a lot lately."

"The phone?" Brock quizzically asked, "Who was he talking to?"

"His agent and the league," Misty answered, "Ash was probably getting some things rolling for the next season.

"You... You sure about that?" Brock tried to confirm.

"Of course I'm sure," Misty reported, "That's who Ash said he was talking to."

"That's who Ash said he was talking to?" Brock repeated, "Misty, wouldn't you be more sure if you had looked at the screen to see who Ash was talking to?"

"Well, not exactly," Misty explained, "Ash set the phone to voice only."

Misty paused a moment to let her mind process her speech. When she was done, she added a finishing word to her last spoken sentence:

"Oh."

With that, the line went silent again. Misty could almost hear Brock grimace over the phone.

"Brock, I trust Ash," insisted Misty, almost reading Brock's mind, "I doubt he would cheat on-."

"No, no, Misty," retracted Brock, "I doubt Ash would do that."

"Then what, Brock?"

Brock paused for a second himself to collect his thoughts.

"The National Pro League is in the offseason," Brock pointed out, "It's a long way before the preseason when Ash should be making calls to his agent or talking about League business."

"So, what do you make of it, Brock?" Misty asked, her voice sounding a bit more worried.

"I'm," Brock sputtered, "I'm not sure."

"You don't think that Ash is-"

"Misty," Brock said in an exasperated tone, "Ash isn't _that _stupid that he'll end up calling his secret girlfriend in the middle of the day in front of his _other_ girlfriend."

Misty briefly grinned at that.

"I think you should check the logs on your video phones." hinted Brock, "We'll need to see who Ash was really talking to."

Misty's grin turned into a grimace.

"I don't know, Brock," said a hesitant Misty, "Why would Ash lie to me?"

"That's what we need to find out, Misty," answered Brock, "By the way, have you called Ash's mom yet?"

"Not yet," Misty admitted, "Delia would be the last person I'd call about Ash going missing."

"It's probably for the best," Brock agreed, "We need to figure out just what the heck is going on before we can tell Miss Ketchum what's up with him."

"Brock," Misty interrupted.

"What?"

"It's _Mrs._ Ketchum."

"Oh," Brock noticed, "My bad. I keep forgetting that she-"

"Was married?" Misty finished his sentence for him.

"Yeah," Brock admitted.

The line briefly went silent again as the two friends had exhausted their thoughts for the conversation. Misty decided to end the call.

"Thank you, Brock," Misty softly said, "For calling."

"You're always welcome, Misty," Brock responded, "Call me back when you have a lead or something?"

"Will do, Brock," assured Misty, "Bye."

With that, Misty placed the receiver into its cradle. The video phone display in front of her began flickering the message "Call Ended" which, after a couple blinks, brought itself to the main menu.

-

May emerged out of her bedroom wearing nothing but a bathrobe and a towel hanging on her head. She walked down the hallway to the living room and kitchen. Drew was noticeably not in the apartment but that didn't concern May very much. Drew was usually gone at this hour, tending his plants and his grass Pokemon at the local greenhouse. What did concern May was whether Drew had gotten any sleep this morning, taking into account of his behavior six hours ago. She took notice of a prepared plate placed on top of the kitchen counter upon her exit from the hallway. It was the leftovers from Drew's early breakfast, saran wrapped and neatly arranged.

"I guess he did make breakfast for two," May thought as she placed the plate into the microwave. The timer was set to forty seconds. May took that little time she had to retrieve a glass from one of the cupboards until she took notice of Drew's cell phone sitting next to the stove.

May froze, her arms still reached into the cupboard while her head cocked to her left. Seeing Drew's cell phone without its owner was an unusual sight for May. If Drew had ever left his telephone at home, it would be a conscious decision; the phone would have been plugged into a charger or would be safely tucked away in his desk in the bedroom.

May chalked this as potential evidence that Drew didn't get enough sleep this morning. She was about to reach over to grab it to see if any missed calls had come through when the microwave oven interrupted her with a high-pitched tone. May responded by bringing her breakfast out of the oven and digging into the mushy six hour old pancakes with a silver fork.

May, with her plate of leftovers on top of her left palm and a fork full of pancakes in her mouth, walked over to Drew's phone. She closely looked at the small display to see the type written on it to be "Missed Calls: 5." Curious, May picked it up. The options the cell phone gave her were "View" and "Cancel." May chose the former to which the screen changed from the plain white screen to a table of entries which had the the same ten digit phone number listed five times down. Apparently, Drew didn't bother to put an entry in his phone book for this particular number.

May was about to set it down and continue her meal until suddenly, the phone began ringing. She took a glance at the display to see the caller id: It was the same number recorded five times in the missed calls list.

-

Misty stared at the user friendly graphics of her video phone, her focus placed on that single button which identified itself as "Calls." Misty had been sitting in front of her phone for five straight minutes, having not ever budged from her seat since she hung up the phone. Misty didn't know what to do. She felt like she had already dug too deep by simply getting advice from Brock; shoveling into the telephone logbook seemed too deceitful even for Misty.

Misty had hoped it didn't have to come to this. She preferred that Ash's disappearance won't be so serious that she would risk losing her trust and faith in him. If she lost those two qualities with him, Misty thought, what would be left in her relationship?

Misty covered her face with her palms and exhaled a long drawn out sigh. She felt like she was going crazy, the situation at hand feeling so surreal. She wanted out, her mind beginning to think of other desirable situations she could be in. She wished that Ash was next to her in bed when she first woke up this morning or that Ash had ate breakfast with her and her sisters. And she wished that she didn't have to check the logbook on her video phone to see what Ash was really up to.

Suddenly, Misty separated her hands from her face and placed them to her sides, balling them into fists. No, there was no point in wishing. Misty had realized years ago that wishing was pointless. She had wished that she would travel with Ash once again when she was still running the Cerulean Gym; that didn't happen until she finally trained Daisy to become a better trainer. She had also wished that Ash had liked her back staring when she was eleven; that didn't happen until she turned fifteen and actually gathered the courage to confess to Ash that she liked him.

Right now, Misty wished she knew where Ash was right now. She knew from past experience that that wasn't going to happen until she started working on the only lead she had: the video phone.

Misty was done thinking. She brought her finger to the "Calls" button on the touch screen display. The screen suddenly changed, giving her the options of "Incoming Calls," "Outgoing Calls," and "Missed Calls."

Misty paused, her heart pounding, giving her second thoughts. Misty chose to ignore her heart and resumed by pressing the "Outgoing Calls" dialog box. A input box emerged in which Misty promptly entered her password in. The subsequent screen thereafter became a long list of dialed phone numbers, supplemented by additional information such as date, time, and length of call. Some entries had names attached to them such as "Hair Salon", "Tracey 3", or "Misty's PokeGear." Others simply had naked ten digit numbers, indicating that those numbers weren't saved in the video phone's internal phone book. For those numbers, Misty would save them in her PokeGear.

Misty continued scrolling down the list, skimming through the recorded numbers until all of a sudden, the display had changed to a opaque white. The video phone began blaring, "Ring Ring Ring! Phone call! Phone call!" It wasn't long until the screen started blinking in a large red type "Incoming Call: Delia Ketchum."

"Oh, no."

**End of Chapter 2**


End file.
